


what comes after the beyond?

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [83]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fan Offspring, Grubs, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, M/M, Nightmares, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Phoenix tea sits on your dresser. Next to it is the Book of Minos and your ritual tools. You’ve been too preoccupied to pay them much attention (and out of paranoia, you still hide them) but you know too much time is passing. You’re hesitating. Why?</p><p>Also known as: Eridan makes more questionable decisions in the face of personal difficulties. </p><p>Takes place two days before 'holding your breath'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a change under the skin

**== >Be Eridan two days into the past**

The Black Phoenix tea sits on your dresser. Next to it is the Book of Minos and your ritual tools. You’ve been too preoccupied to pay them much attention (and out of paranoia, you still hide them) but you know too much time is passing. You’re hesitating. Why?

No matter how many times you interrogate yourself, there’s never a reasonable answer.

The box of Black Phoenix Tea is marked with a mangling of Chinese and Alternian, making it difficult to tell if this is the real deal or a well-crafted bootleg. It could be green tea for all you know. Worse yet, it could be toxic. 

A loud squeak returns you to reality and you spring into action like a wind-up toy. You hide the book, the tea, and all your contraband and turn to your sons. Suxxor is squeaking at Dmitry, harassing his younger brother as he tries to sleep in his tiny recuperacoon. The larger yellowblood grub is sitting in the green slime, while Dmitry is hissing, gills flared.

You pick up Suxxor, who is sticky with slime. “Suxxor, you can’t keep doing this. Your brother needs his space and you don’t need to sleep in sopor.”

Suxxor growls and Dmitry hisses. Only a few days old and the young violetblood is already territorial. All you can do now is preoccupy Suxxor with his favorite toy—a silver spin-ball. While the yellow grub is chasing it around the room, you pat Dmitry on the head. 

“How are you doing, kiddo?” you chuckle, “You look just like your grandfather.” Then you realize that Dmitry will never meet Dualscar. “Do you know ‘grandfather’? It’s auzes. Can you say auzes? Can you say Auzes Dualscar?”

Dmitry blinks at you and then rolls over onto his back, wiggling his legs in the air. You chuckle and pick him up, kissing him. “Can you say Mausur? Can you say Phausrum? Mama? Phapha?”

This is your life now: entertaining your sons so they don’t attack each other. Mostly it’s keeping an earfin out for the rhythm and volume of Suxxor’s squeaking, as Dmitry’s are still rather homogenous.  

Small squeaks means Suxxor’s minding his own business. Loud and erratic means he’s panicked and most likely tangled in the wires behind the TV. Incredibly loud with long pauses means he’s pestering Dmitry.

Dmitry is far more sedentary, preferring sleep or TV. You try to make him watch educational TV but due to Sollux’s terrible tastes, your fuchsia son has already been exposed to Subjug Shore countless times. Now he hates watching anything that isn’t trashy TV.

After months of living with Captors, you’ve developed a routine. You meditate early in the morning, harass Sollux before school, feed the boys, and have breakfast.

Meenah visits at noon to lavish Dmitry with grandmotherly affection, kissing him and taking pictures. Dmitry laughs the entire time.

“My little guppy’s getting so _big_!” Meenah giggles, poking Dmitry’s tummy. She looks at you. “I hope you’ve been playing with him instead of plopping him in front of the TV.”

“I know how to take care of my son.” Your voice is terse but civil.

“ _Do_ you?” Meenah has a lot of skepticism. Despite her station in life, she still has a royal boldness to her. “What sort of knowledge did Dualscar pass onto _you_ about childrearing?”

 _About as much as any wild animal. I learned everything I know from books and TV_ but you’re not going to shame your deceased grandfather. You fold your arms. “He taught me enough: self confidence, reliability, and owning up to my mistakes. I’m not Mary Poppins but I try my best. I know you hate having me around your hemokin grandson but we have no choice.”

“I _know_ that,” Meenah hisses but doesn’t raise her voice, “and don’t you dare make this sound like _you’re_ the victim. You didn’t get dragged into bed with Feferi.”

“How would _you_ know that? You weren’t there and I don’t have to justify _anything_ to you and if you expect me to, you can get the hell out of my trailer.”

Dmitry loudly squeaks. His eyes are teary and afraid. Meenah puts Dmitry on the couch next to her.

“Let’s not to fight.” She says, “We can’t change what already happen.”

“Agreed.”

You try to make peace with her by sharing lunch on the back porch. Dmitry sleeps in the sun and Suxxor whines to go back inside, which you ignore. You eat and read over your GED test manual. You make small talk with Meenah about your GED progress--which is admittedly slow—and things are peaceful…until you ask about Feferi and Momeju.

“Feferi is trying to return to school but I doubt the doctor is going to let her.” Meenah sighs, “And what’s the point of returning now? Four more months and she’ll be done. Then she’s got these plans to get Momeju baptized and--”

You nearly choke on your sandwich. “Baptized as what? An _Orthodoxian_? She doesn’t even believe in it anymore!”

“It’s what she _wants_ , Eridan. You’d consider baptizing your kids after what happened to the Egbert trailer. I’m sure you have some pagan bullshit in mind for Suxxor and Dmitry.”

You considered anointing Suxxor and Dmitry for protection but they weren’t considered old enough and you wouldn’t anoint Dmitry without telling Feferi! “She can’t baptize Momeju. She’s _my_ hemokin and no Ampora has _ever_ been Orthodoxian!”   

Meenah rolls her eyes. “Why the hell are you invoking your family name like it has any _weight?_ You’re bickering with your ex-moirail about baptizing your kids. Stop treating this shit like its Stark versus Lannister.”

“I would if _you_ would stop treating my feelings like they’re fucking nothing!” you snarl, “We can’t _all_ be apathetic toward how people treat our kids! That’s how they get fucked up!”

Meenah stands. “Fuck you! I did the best I could!”

The argument heats up, not only about the twins but your limited time spent with Momeju. You insist Feferi is hoarding Momeju and influencing her and Meenah argues that mother and child shouldn’t be separated.

“She’s violetblood! An _Ampora_!” you insist, “She should learn about her family’s legacy from her father!”

“What _legacy_ are you going to tell her?” Meenah snorts, “Are you going to include her rapist grandfather? Her uncle that turned from a bullying douche to a guilt-ridden suckerfish? Her father was a prostitute? Oh yeah; she’s got a _lot_ to be proud of.”

“Should _I_ tell her what a bully her grandmother is?” you growl, “My father was a rapist but at least I never _flushed_ one. _My_ mouth’s only gotten _me_ in trouble, but who have _you_ tortured with _yours_?”

Meenah goes still and every muscle in her body tense. You see the violence flicker in her fuchsia eyes—considering your multiple deaths and the ease of which she can perform them—but she inhales and steps away from you.

“Okay, I’ve stayed _way_ too long.” she says between clenched teeth, “Settle your shit with Fef on your own.”

You’re too shaken to answer. When Meenah leaves, you feel like you could collapse. Your hand is clutched over your heart—a fruitless gesture as you no longer wear dodecagram star.

Where hell did you get the nerve to say all of that? Past Eridan would’ve been too afraid to call Meenah out. He’d sulk and fantasize Meenah’s death while stroking his impotent, shitty wands.

It was pointless now with the future staring at you from far down the long road.

Something is definitely changing in you. This is a sign, reassurance from the forces beyond that you are reaching the tipping point.

 

Your palmhusk calendar says Monday will be a moonless night, which is what you need. The second concern is location. The re-translated ritual requires a place of solitude amongst nature. With spring coming, it’ll be dangerous to go too far into the swampy woods but you can’t risk being seen. You have to find a good median point.

You can plan more thoroughly after Meenah leaves because the boys are exhausted. They both go to sleep and, thankfully, stay asleep. While the boys nap, you locate your old school bag and fill it with provisions: mosquito spray, palmhusk, ritual tools, and the black phoenix tea. You’re not looking forward to the pre-ritual fast but you’ll soldier through it.

Sollux always returns home just as the boys wake up. Suxxor snubs his father but Dmitry loves to sleep in Sollux’s lap.

“I guess seatrolls just like yellow.” Sollux chuckles.

“More like he enjoys attention.” You say from the kitchen. You always start dinner once the kids wake up from their nap. “You should’ve seen him when Meenah was here.”

“Like _you_ don’t love attention. Dualscar fawned over you.”

“He didn’t fawn over me as much as you would think, I assure you.” Your father could be kind but the only way to get his attention in the first place was to please him.

Sollux goes quiet and you have to stop your cooking to see what’s wrong. He has that annoying look on his face—the pity that surfaces whenever he hears about your kithood with Dualscar.

“Ugh, would you quit it with the shooshpapping eyes? Grandpa’s _dead_ , Sol. Let it go.” You notice Suxxor’s eyes are glued to the TV screen, watching a poker championship. “Sol, we agreed Suxxor shouldn’t watch so much poker. I don’t want him to turn into a gambling addict, or a coach potato like his father.”

Sollux rolls his eyes. “How the hell can he gamble if he can’t even count?” He temporarily puts down Dmitry so he can pick up Suxxor. The grub starts shrieking at the top of his lungs to get away. “Hey, there’s more to life than TV!”

“Yeah, listen to your gadget and TV addict father.” You snort.

Sollux sits back down with his fussing son. “He gets this TV attachment from your side of the family.”

“Bullshit he does.” You sit next to Sollux, putting Dmitry on your lap. The fuchsiablood slides off and crawls to Sollux whining.

“I’m doing something important Monday night, so I can’t watch the boys.” you say.

“What? _Eridan.._.” Sollux groans, “I _work_ in the evening. I can’t watch the kids.”

“I need time for myself, Sol.” You fold your arms, “I watch the kids and your Dad nonstop during the week. A holiday is coming up and I need to fast. I need time to myself. I haven’t had any since…Kan and I broke up.”

Sollux looks away. You hate to play that card but you need the night off.

“Alright,” Sollux grumbles. “I’ll put a movie on for them.” Dmitry climbs into Sollux’s lap but Suxxor squeaks and shoves his half-brother away. Dmitry squeaks angrily and Suxxor growls. “ _Stop that!_ You two have to get along!”

“They don’t want to share you.” you chuckle, “I’m sure Karkat and me would’ve been the same way if we were raised together…and the same age.”

“That’s right…you’re a year younger than KK.” Sollux arranges the boys so they can share his lap, “ED, when’s your wriggling day?”

“Does it matter?” You never learned your hatchdate. Dualscar only gave you gifts if you pleased him and Cronus has always been awkward about it.

“It _does_ matter.” Sollux insists. You look from him and he sighs, “The date should be on your hatch certificate.”

“I _really_ don’t care, Sol.” You insist, “The only reason you want to know is so you can do something especially shitty to me.”

“Like tonight?” Sollux says, grinning.

 _What in the hell does that mean?_ It doesn’t occur to you until a commercial comes on TV advertising Flush Day flower sale.

Shit. It’s Flush Day, Moirail’s Eve, and Pitch Night. You never paid attention to the holiday before…and now it’s too late to plan anything with Damara. When was the last time you even had pale time? It feels like a week but maybe it’s been more.

You don’t have a flush either.

You think of Kanaya or more particularly, you think of Kanaya’s eyes. Her eyes are her most dazzling feature: deep pools of sea green like light shimmering through the waves. Her skin was always soft and her lukewarm touch welcoming. You still remember the weight of her heftsacks in your hand, the particular way she kissed, and her laughter when you bit her neck.

You put Kanaya out of your mind. It’s too soon to dwell on bittersweet memories.

You make dinner and work on your GED while Sollux does work and finances. You’ve been trying to save up money but with Mituna’s state, Latula’s hospitalization, and the kids, its damn near to impossible. You’re a disaster away from being stuck in the red and if Sollux loses his job, you’re _all_ fucked over. 

You need more income, but you refuse to street walk again. Meenah would find out and use it to keep Momeju from you. You need to pick up the pace on your GED so you can go through the care assistant training. You spend the evening meditating and practicing for your GED.  

The boys go to bed at eight and you’re immediately in bed with Sollux. You hiss insults at each other while you’re inside of him. You bite his shoulder and thrust, feeling Sollux’s nook flex around you. You rarely get to top but you’re feeling aggressive. Fucking Sollux isn’t easy though; the yellowblood has a finicky orgasm. It takes a lot of trial and error to find the right technique to get you both to the peak, but the sexually sated sleep makes it worthwhile.

You wake up a half-hour later to a loud squeaking. You roll onto your stomach and see Suxxor staring at you from the ground. You’re starting to regret your ‘open door’ policy for the boys.

Sollux rolls over in bed. “Why is he not _asleep_?”

You pick up your son. “Maybe he heard noise and wanted to investigate?” you joke but Sollux isn’t smiling.

Suxxor crawls out of your grip and climbs onto Sollux’s head. He then squeaks loudly in the yellowblood’s ear. Sollux bolts upward, yelling “ _Get off!”._

Suxxor squeaks and falls onto the bed. Sollux rubs his sore ear, cursing, but your eyes are on Suxxor. The grub starts sniffling, which evolves into a wail. It’s the first time you’ve seen him cry instead of pouting or grumbling.

“No. Suxxor. _Shh_. He didn’t mean it.” You coo, picking up the grub. You glower at your kismesis, “Sol, you have to be careful. You could’ve tossed him across the room.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t fucking _scream in my ear_ when I’m trying to sleep.” Sollux growls.

“He’s a _grub_ , Sol.” You growl, “He doesn’t know any better. He can’t even fucking talk.”

Guilt flickers across Sollux’s face. “Shit, you’re right.” He pats Suxxor on the head. “Sorry, little man.” Suxxor hiccups and turns from him.

Sollux takes his son and kisses him on the forehead. “It’ll be alright.” Suxxor bites one of the fingers holding him. The older yellowblood yelps and hands the grub back to you. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Maybe I should read him a story?” You suggest.

“He watches _hours_ of TV without moving and you think a story would put him to sleep?” Sollux snorts.

“It worked for me.”

Sollux lies back down with a lazy smirk. “Well, there is nothing more boring than you droning on.”

You toss a pillow at his head and leave with Suxxor resting in the crook of your arm.

You check on Dmitry in the bedroom and see he’s still asleep. You place Suxxor on the bed and locate _D’Aulaires’ Book of Alternian Myths_. It’s difficult to find something both interesting and child-appropriate. Most of the stories are of lust and carnage: the madness of Blood and Haze, the brutal justices of the Bewitched One, and the follies of Air and Darkness.

You find the least gruesome tale of _Tyrian the Wise,_ the story of the first fuschsiablood. It also happens to be a long one, although boring. You’re not even halfway through to it before Suxxor starts nods off and remains asleep. You kiss him and he squirms but (thankfully) doesn’t wake up.

“You are a fucking _pain_.” You whisper to your son with all the love in your heart.


	2. black moon fast

Fasting is considerably worse than you imagined. You spend most of your time struggling against the temptation to eat and focus on your chores.   

 

 

The most difficult is bathing Suxxor. Dmitry takes to water like--well--a fish, but the yellowblood has an inherent hatred of it. Bathing Suxxor is a mix between vigilance and keeping a good grip on. After Suxxor and Dmitry are washed up, you make them breakfast. While the boys eat, you go to Mituna’s bedroom. With Latula gone, the bedroom has evolved into a sty. Mituna is sitting on the bed, robotically pressing buttons on his controller with his eyes on the screen.

“How long have you been gaming?” you ask.

“I’m fine, chumbreath.” Mituna says.

“Tuna. Come on.” You put the plate of eggs and sausage on the dresser, knocking over empty Mountain Dew cans. Mituna ignores you. “Tuna, eat or I unplug the game.”

Concern flickers across Mituna’s face but he keeps playing. “Bullshit.”

You glance at the cords and unplug the stereo. The music cuts out and Mituna yells, “What the fuck, fishdick?”

“If you’re so determined to play, try playing blind.” You say, holding the cord connected to the TV. Mituna growls and you add, “Tuna, eat and then you can go back to your mind-rotting FPS.”

“Fuck you, Captor.” Mituna grumbles, begrudgingly pausing the game.

As Mituna eats, you clean up the bedroom—sweeping up crumbs and putting garbage in the trash. You check on the boys to see Dmitry is sitting on the couch and giggling at the screen. Suxxor has seized the remote and flipped it to Troll Maury. You snatch the remote and go to Lomax Street, ignoring Dmitry’s whining. 

“I’m not going to let trash TV ruin what few brain cells you have.” You insist. Dmitry scowls and you put the remote high on a table the boys can’t reach. You return to Mituna’s bedroom to find his plate scraped clean and Mituna gaming again, having re-hooked the stereo.

“Tuna, you need fresh air.” You say.

“Nah.”

“You’re going to get sick if you stay in this room.”

“Would that be bad?”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not his moirail so it’s not your place to help him…or is it? You doubt Damara would want anything to do with you now that you hate her gods. Sollux has been so busy that he hasn’t had much pale time with Mituna either.

“It would be bad.” You say, “…do you want…someone to play with?”

“I would wipe the floor with you, fish.” Mituna snorts.

“Bitch please. I played all the Cod of War games,” you say, “I’ll play you after lunch.”

Mituna doesn’t answer. You leave to clean up the kitchen and then weigh the boys. Suxxor is gaining weight normally but Dmitry is smaller than normal. If he doesn’t gain weight, you’ll have to take him to the doctor. After they eat, you try to teach the boys in Old Alternian.

“ _Neos uss hoc?_ ” you ask, poking Dmitry. The grub blinks. You smile, “ _Dmitry uss!_ ” Dmitry tilts his head. You point to Suxxor. “ _Neos uss ossu?_ ” Dmitry glances at Suxxor, blinking. “ _Neo uss Suxxor. Suxxor Dmitry mukoau uss frausur. Suxxor sos lesuos saunjeos. Dmitry hwauconshi saunjeonum haulus._ ”

Suxxor, realizing attention is on him, turns to you. You grin. “ _Suxxor sos lesuos saunjeos._ Suxxor has yellow blood.”  

Suxxor’s attention span doesn’t even last the full sentence. He’s glaring up at where you’ve placed the remote, trying to figure out how to get it. Dmitry is rolling on the floor, giggling to himself. Maybe you should get a language DVD for Old Alternian?

You spend Saturday night gaming with Mituna. You lose most of the rounds but Mituna cheers up. On Sunday, Mituna leaves his bedroom and plays with Suxxor and Dmitry. The boys chase the spin-ball around and although Dmitry makes some effort to go after it, Suxxor knocks him out of the way.

Dmitry’s frustration culminates into loud sobbing and you have to comfort him. “It’s alright, Dmitry. You’ll grow just as big.”

Of course your words make little difference to an infant. Dmitry sulks for the rest of the day so you let him swim in his kiddie pool for longer than usual. It makes him happy and he needs the exercise anyway. Suxxor avoids the water like it’s a plague.

You’re starving by Monday, only subsisting on water during the fast. You’re thankful when Sollux returns from school to watch the boys and Mituna.

You don’t leave the trailer until evening, wearing swimming shoes and a long skirt. You slop through muddy Meyer Road and enter the abandoned section of the park. You find the perfect place in the shallow part of the swamp, where kudzu covers the empty trailers and the mangrove roots are temporarily exposed. Your shirt is soaked and silt clings to your water shoes, but you hoist yourself onto a dry patch of roots. They’re uncomfortable but it’s the sturdiest place to sit.

You take your thermos out of from your schoolbag, where you’ve let the tea sit for hours. You open it and a pungent smell fills the air, making your eyes water, but at least you know the brew is strong. You slap a mosquito, offer a silent prayer to the unknown forces, and chug the bitter liquid. You drain the thermos with a loud cough and sit back. You lean against the tree, feeling bark dig into your back.

You don’t know how much time passes as you sit. You keep an eye out for wild lusii, but your vision starts blurring. Tingling runs down your arms and spine and your body quakes. It feels like your head is floating away and before you can get your bearings, you double over and puke into the black water.

Wait, where did this water come from? There was nothing but mud earlier…

“Something wrong, boy?”

Wait, where did this water come from? There was nothing but mud earlier…

“Something wrong, boy?”

You fall into the water, stinking of bile and Black Phoenix tea. You flop in the water with your fingers and toes going numb. You’re trembling, swimming like a dying fish. You know that voice…but it can’t be. It’s impossible.

“Already forgotten me, descendant?” Dualscar stands over you with shriveled skin that’s crumbling like old leather. His eyes are sunken in and white as ivory. “Couldn’t spare me the pain, could you? Didn’t have the bulge to be a _true_ violetblood.”

“I…I couldn’t…yo-you don’t understand…” You don’t realize you’re crying until you stumble over your words. “I couldn’t do that to you, Grandpa…”

“ _Grandpa_?” Dualscar sneers, “You worthless piece of shit. I’m your _ancestor_! Speak like a _troll_ and _be_ worthy of your blood for once in your life!”

“You’re dead.” You try to climb back onto the tree but its slippery. “You’re dead and you can’t--”

“Can’t _what?”_ Dualscar grabs your throat.

You claw at his hands but they’re massive and heavy like iron. Vomit is coming up but you start gagging. 

“How _dare_ you, you waste of _genes_.” Dualscar snarls, “You wouldn’t be here without _me_ taking the initiative. What have you done besides be a parasite?”

Your vision is going dark and Dualscar’s face is blurring. This is it. He’s going to drag you to Hell with him. You open your mouth to scream but you vomit a stream of gold and silver. It strikes your father’s face and he drops you in the black water. Your gills burn from the swamp chemicals.

 “Look what you’ve _done_ boy.” Your father moans. his face has been burned away, showing bone and melting eyes. Gore drips off his skinless face. Your father—undead, monstrous—lurches toward you. “Look what you’ve done to your _lineage_ …”

Your adrenaline takes over. You stagger to your feet and you start running, but its dark and every direction. You look over your shoulder and watch your father’s decaying body keep a limping pace. He’s breaking apart and still you can’t escape him.

You run into the woods, accosted by hard branches and sharp leaves. You fall in the mud with a gooey splash. Standing is impossible and there’s nothing to grab onto you so you half-crawl and half-swim through the gunk to get the grassy shore. You haul yourself out of the muck and find the shore is actually the bottom of a bill. You climb for what feels like hours because what was once a small grassy knoll is now a sizeable hill.

You hoist yourself to the hilltop and look out, but everything beyond three feet is swirling darkness and screaming chaos. You can’t tell car lights from ominous burning eyeballs and bird chatter from the howl of wretched demons.

You stand on jittery legs but walking steady is impossible. You slip and tumble down the hill. You fall and this time its into darkness that breaks under you like glass.

You tumble into a white void. The surface is soft like grass but all around you is white nothingness. You are paralyzed on your side with your throat burning and your breathing haggard.

On the white horizon, a shadow approaches. It stands next to you and if you could move, you would scream.

The Minotaur looks down at you, colossal and indifferent. It doesn’t speak. It walks around you, observes you like an ant under a microscope. You can hear its loud, haggard breaking. The Minotaur removes its cloak, showing you its scarred nude body. It pushes you onto your back with its clawed foot.

_Please don’t kill me._

The Minotaur kneels and begins undressing you, casting aside your clothes. You feel a skirt sliding off, pantyhose being pulled down and cloth panties...wait, you didn’t dress like this outside.

Oh gods.

He’s taking off your old streetwalking clothes.

_Please don’t…don’t…_

_ _

The Minotaur strips you naked. You shut your eyes, expecting a caress before the pain. The Minotaur sits you up and you’re limp as a ragdoll. Behind the mask you see its purple eyes. Then the Minotaur removes the mask with his free hand.

Gamzee stares at you, hair tangled, with blank eyes and expression. He doesn’t speak. He drops the Minotaur mask in your lap.  

You know what you should have done years ago.

You blink and the Minotaur mask is on you. It’s heavy and chafes your skin but it has a good, familiar weight to it. Gamzee is still staring at you. His eyes are sunken in and his ribs are sticking out. He’s starved, consumed from the inside out.

The feeling is returning to your limbs. You stand and give Gamzee your clothes. He stares at you numbly, confused. You turn to walk away but there’s pain. Your cheek aches and blood runs down your face. Pain lances up your arm and leg.  

You are no longer in the white void. You are dislodging yourself from a bush; a thorny branch embedded in your face. You’re bleeding from cuts, your limbs are bruised, and your dress has sopped up gods know how many bodily fluids. You’re dizzy and instinctively, you know something is wrong. You vomit again and its completely violet.

Oh gods. This isn’t part of the vision.

Something’s wrong. You need to get home. You stumble from the woodlands finally. You just have to keep walking. Keep moving so you can get help and an antidote…

You move toward the distant light but the pain is overwhelming. You fall on soggy grass, smelling dirt and pass out.


	3. slowly speak

Your vision is cloudy and there’s a severe pain in your temple. There’s an IV and catheter inside of you, plus the weight of an oxygen mask. You struggle in the soft hospital bed but can’t muster the strength to call the nurse before you’re back under.

You wake a second time and your vision is clearer. The room is dark and the TV is off. You can’t tell if the sun is rising or setting. The catheter is uncomfortable and your abdomen itches. You slip back under before you can make sense of it. 

The third time you wake, its daytime. Your vision is mostly back to normal and your face is itching. This time, you call the nurse and they quickly arrive.

The nurse is human man with a wide smiling face. “Are you feeling more awake today?”

“How…how long have I been out…?” you croak. Your throat is sore and tight.

“Two days.” The nurse says sweetly, “You were overdosing and seatrolls tend to not survive that.”

“Over…overdose?” Did you perform the ritual wrong?

The nurse nods. “You were brought to us in a very bad state, but you’re awake now!” He smiles. “Let’s get you some breakfast first and then you can talk to the doctor.

No wonder the nurse was being so delicate. He must think there’s something horribly wrong with your life. The nurse helps off the oxygen mask and sits you up. Your face is itching but all you can do is cough and point. You can hardly move your face without winching in pain.

“You had a deep gouge on your face,” says the nurse, “so the itching is from the stitches. They should heal quickly. Now would you like some breakfast?”

You still can’t talk so the nurse makes you weak tea and you have to point to an item on the menu. Your vision is still hazy but you order some broth, which you thankfully hold down. You try to catch up on the news but nothing has changed. Local news is tittering about the WMS scandal and CNN is concerned about gun legislation, brutality, and the illegal egg trade.

After you eat, the nurse asks you basic questions: name, date of birth, location, identifying colors, and letters. She takes your blood pressure and observing your temperature. Its still hard to talk but after eating and drinking, you feel better.

“You’re still a little warm but you’re leagues better than before.” says the nurse, “Do you want to call anyone?”

“My family. I have two sons…”

You’re still in too much of a fog to recall the phone number so the nurse calls Sollux for you. After the call, the doctors comes in, who is a human woman.

“At first we thought it was a drug overdose, but your lab results came back negative for what we have on file.” The doctors says, “You came just in time. If you waited any longer, your kidneys would’ve been destroyed.” She looks from the chart. “What exactly happened?”

“I was doing a herbal cleanse…” You mutter, “I didn’t think…I didn’t think it would do _that_.”

“Consider yourself lucky. There are plenty of other teenagers that _don’t_ get to walk away from such an encounter, or end up dialysis for the rest of their lives.” The doctor says, sounding impatient, “You’re going to be under observation for a while. We had to flush the toxin from your system and you’re still very weak…”

You get advice mixed in with a lecture about how stupid you’ve been. You barely pay attention and are thankful when she leaves. Things are slow in the hospital, with only public TV channels available. You end up getting seriously investing in a soap called Woody Hill when Sollux comes through the door. The yellowblood looks more pissed off than usual having Suxxor strapped to him and holding Dmitry in his carrier. Suxxor is wriggling unhappily being stuck on Sollux and looks at you for a rescue. Dmitry is sleepily sucking his pacifier.

“You owe me _big_ for putting up with not one but two of our kids longer than anyone with sanity should do.” Sollux grunts, sitting next to you. He unstraps Suxxor and puts him on the bed.

“Sorry you had to do it alone…” you cough. Suxxor glares at you in the most bitter and Captor-way possible.

“It took a lot of schedule shuffling and was a pain in the ass but I got it done.” Sollux muttered, “Just what in the hell were you thinking, fish lips? Do you have… _any idea…_ what you were doing?”

 “It’s not what you think, Sol. I was just--”

“I _know_ what you were doing! Karkat told me everything.” Sollux snaps. Dmitry whines and rolls over in his sleep. Sollux clenches his teeth and says in a lower voice, “You could have died drinking that crazy shit. Anyone with two brain cells knows better than to trust anything you buy from sketchy assholes and drink from a box _you can’t fucking read._ ”

“I could read some of it.” You cough.

“I don’t _care._ ” He’s more frustrated than angry. “Just what was going through your head?”

“I…I wanted to face my fears.” You say, “I didn’t know it would be this bad.”

“Damn right you’re sorry.”

You take a sip of water, which is the only thing can soothe your throat. “I…I need to talk to Karkat.”

“Karkat’s pissed at you and so is everyone else.” Sollux growls, “Out of all the stupid things you’ve ever done, this is definitely high up there and it’s already a long list. You can’t be doing this shit, Eridan. We have kids. _Responsibilities_.”

You don’t have to think about the economic trouble you’ve wreaked in the house. You were already walking a tightrope and now you’ve fallen. Hopefully there’s a net to save you from the fall.

Suxxor gnaws on your fingers, demanding attention. You remove your fingers from his mouth and pat him on the head. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.” You look at him. “I need to talk to Kar. Its…important.”

He’s not happy about you demanding to speak with Karkat but he’s your kismesis. You’re not supposed to make him happy. After Sollux leaves, the nurse bathes you and helps you to the bathroom. Its humiliating but you’re too weak to do anything. (Is this what it was like for your grandfather? No wonder he craved death.)

You ask the nurse for a mirror so you can look at the damage. Your throat is bruised now, so _someone_ choked you—whether it was your grandfather’s shade or a mugger. There are two heavy scratches across your face, shut with stitches. If the scars were closer to your left eye, you would have lost them.

You take painkillers and spend the morning nodding off and watching trash TV. It’s the only way you can whittle away the hours. The nurse comes in around ten and informs you that an angry rustblood has arrived at the hospital demanding to see you. You inform her that she’s your moirail (or hopefully, still is). Damara’s already angry when she enters your room but becomes downright furious when you tell her about the ritual.

“What was going through your algae-rotted head, fish?” she demands in Old Alternian, “Black Phoenix tea is _poison_! Every troll knows the dark barbarians are liars and thieves, no matter what they say!”

“That’s _very_ racist…” you mutter but your words fall on deaf ears.

“Why have you done this?” Damara asks, looking worried, “To not tell me that you would make a commitment to another god…it makes me wonder if you really do care for me in a pale way.”

“I was afraid you would stop being my moirail if we stopped sharing the same gods.”

Damara frowns. “I’m not my mother. Beliefs shouldn’t restrict quadrants. I just want honesty. That’s all I’ve _ever_ wanted from people and all I’ve never received. Even sweet Rufioh deceived me.”  

“I don’t know how I feel about _anything_ ,” you admit, “I think things have been in a flux since I broke up with Kan. I just assumed you would leave me too. When people get too close, I’m scared they’ll learn everything I’ve done and start hating me.”  

“You think you’re the only one who twists in their coon at night thinking of the past? All you can do is move forward and hope that you don’t swallow sopor during the day terrors.”

 _That is all that can be done_ , you acknowledge. You talk for hours about breaking off your moirallegiance but it doesn’t occur. As she leaves, you know your relationship won’t last, but what relationship does? Eventually, you’ll move on but for now the status quo remains.

You don’t know why you think that but some bone-deep part of you knows.

Karkat doesn’t come until late evening. He’s not visibly angry but you feel the fury radiating from him like the heat from a bulb. He enters the room without a word, glaring at you. You’re too afraid to speak, so you sit in silence for minutes before he speaks.  

“You’re a fucking _moron_ ,” Karkat says, “and I only came because Sollux asked me. What in the shit was going through that sea-salt crusted dried sponge you call a brain?”

“Kar, it was a spiritual thing--”

 “Fuck you, Eridan.” Karkat digs inside his school bag tosses the Book of Minos on the bed with a look of having just touched a cockroach.

You pick it up the book with care. “How did you know?”

“How could I _not_ know?” Karkat growls, “I should have known this wouldn’t be the end of this supernatural bullshit since Nepeta didn’t burn the godsdamned book and I should’ve known _you_ would be the one to yank it.”

You swallow. “Did you always know?”

“No, because I thought you were fucking smarter than this Eridan!” Karkat groans, “Why are all highbloods so religion crazy and all your gods are batshit? What is wrong with the current group of divine idiots? Do we _really_ need twenty more?”

You hold the Book of Minos close to you. “I no longer believe in my father’s gods.”

“I don’t _give_ a shit.” Karkat snaps, “Just say what you have to say so I can fucking leave.”

You don’t know if he’ll listen, but you have to try. “Kar…do you remember the Eldritch Night you got hurt?”

“No, but I’ve been told plenty about it.” Karkat says, sourly.

“Kar, _please_ listen to me.” you plead but Karkat looks away from you, “Do you remember anything about that night? Anything at all?”

“I remember Gamzee caving my godsdamned head in.” 

“It wasn’t Gamzee”--you take a breath, inhale, stay calm—“it was me.”

Karkat is shocked enough to forget his mood and looks at you. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“It was me.” you continue, “Grandpa… _father_ hated the Grand Highblood and the feeling was mutual. Since Gamzee’s real father was in prison, he had no protection and father wanted me to help him…get him out of the way. I…I hated you so much then Kar, so I believed everything he told me.”

“Father helped me make a duplicate of the Minotaur costume. Then we waited until you were alone. Then I…attacked you. It was…easy.” You can’t look Karkat in the face anymore. Your heart is thundering in your chest. “ _I’m_ the reason you were hurt and _I’m_ why Gamzee went to prison. I-I was too scared to admit it or--”

“Stop it.” Karkat orders.

“Kar--” you begin.

“Stop it!” he hisses, “I just. _Fuck._ ” He inhales, holding his head, “You were lying to me this whole time?”

“I-I’m sorry…” You say, your voice a hoarse whisper, “I was scared of my father and Gamzee…I always thought he would murder me. I thought at Dualscar’s funeral he would do it--”

“Apologizing to me isn’t going to make this _right_!” Karkat snaps, “By this point in my life, you…you were someone who hurt me the _least._ Or I thought you were.”

Karkat’s face is hollow but the hurt in his voice makes it feel as if fingers are seized around your heart.  The large mutantblood stands and you freeze. You expect a fist in your face but he doesn’t move.

“I just wanted you to know I’m sorry…” you mutter, “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t even expect us to become _friends_ …”

“Godsdamnit, Eridan. I…I…” He struggles for the words and gives up. “I don’t even have a proper fucking _reaction_ for this! This is a mess Dualscar and I don’t even _remember_ it well enough to hold a grudge.” He pauses. “The person you should be apologizing to is Meenah.”

“Meenah…?” You hadn’t thought of her.

“Meenah is the you hurt more than me. _She’s_ the one who saw her son locked up. _She’s_ the one who insisted he was innocent. I…I can’t deal with this.” Karkat walks to the door.

“Karkat--”

“ _Goodbye_.”

He leaves the room, neither slamming nor gently shutting the door. You’re too tired to even cry and what would be the point if you did? Instead you contemplate facing Meenah and what price you’ll pay for admitting the truth after so long. Still, an eternally murderous face lingers in your mind and makes you wonder:

What of Gamzee?  

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, readers! Sorry for the wait but I've been sick but now I'm back. Updates won't be as rapid as they were before since I'm still recovering but thankfully there won't be another several month long hiatus. Welcome back everyone. u_u


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